Hands Open, Eyes Open, Heart Open
by BuffyAnne
Summary: He gets the call at 2 AM. He's not expecting it, not yet. It's too early. It fills him with panic, a heart-seizing adrenaline rush that has him running to his car and speeding towards the hospital while Laurel's voice, small and twisted in agony, plays over and over in his mind. "I need you, Frank... Please, I need you."


**Title:** Hands Open, Eyes Open, Heart Open

 **Rating:** Teen

 **Pairing/Characters:** Frank/Laurel, Laurel Castillo, Frank Delfino, Flaurel

 **Spoilers:** Up to 3x09

 **AN:** My small contribution to the what could happen with Laurel's baby storyline. I don't expect this to actually happen but it's nice to imagine. This is just a little ficlet - a moment in time - and I hope you enjoy it! Leave a little review if you do! :)

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 **Hands Open, Eyes Open, Heart Open**

He gets the call at 2 AM. He's not expecting it, not yet. It's too early. It fills him with panic, a heart-seizing adrenaline rush that has him running to his car and speeding towards the hospital while Laurel's voice, small and twisted in agony, plays over and over in his mind.

" _I need you, Frank... Please, I need you."_

She was begging him, _begging him_ , as if she didn't quite trust he would actually come, as if all of these months fixed nothing. If he had time to dwell on it, the thought might hurt him but he doesn't, so he won't. Begging him. Pleading with him to come. But it's not necessary. It will never be necessary, and he'll spend every day proving it. He'll be there for her, no matter what. He's told her as much, and now he'll show her that there is nothing that will stop him from being with her as long as that's where she wants him.

He does some calculations in his head and steps on the gas a little more because it's earlier than expected. He knows that already, of course, but his sleep-addled brain doesn't quite catch up, doesn't quite realize how early until this moment. About a month and a half, to be exact. That can't be good. The baby girl Laurel's growing inside her has already survived an explosion. She needs to stay safe inside Laurel, safe away from the harsh, destructive world for as long as possible, not join them before she's had time to fully form, time to get strong.

He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head, refocusing his brain. He's not going to do Laurel any good right now if he's panicking. She needs a friend, and of all her friends, she's called him.

He's not going to mess this up.

He's been trying so hard for her and doing what he can to be in her life in some small way. She's been hesitant; of course, she would be. He's destroyed her trust so many times. But he's done everything he can to show her that he'll be there for her now and never leave. Even if they are only ever going to be friends, he'll be there for her, her and her daughter.

He'll be the best friend she's ever had because he almost lost her for good, and he knows now that is something he can never allow to pass. It's something he will never survive.

It's upset Bonnie and their strange, fragile relationship. Bonnie can't handle that someone may be replacing her in his life. He tries to tell her it's not true. No one can ever replace Bonnie but he sees what she sees. He understands how his being Laurel's best friend makes it look like that's exactly what's happening. And he knows that she wants more but all he can really ever give her is friendship. His heart belongs to Laurel. He loves Bonnie but he's _in_ _love_ with the girl who came into his life so unexpectedly.

At the start, he thought Laurel would be like all the other students – all the other girls – but he quickly learned that wasn't true. And he struggled with how to move forward, with how to tell her everything he's done. He wanted to start over with her and not be that man, so he tried to be the man she wanted instead. He couldn't tell her the truth, and at the end of the day, he lost her. But his heart won't let go.

He rushes into the hospital as soon as he parks his car, asking the woman at the front desk where he can find his girl. His girl. Laurel's always going to be his girl, even if she's only just his friend. There's a tiny wave of relief that his name has made it down into their system, and the nurse directs him in the proper direction. He takes off running before she's even finished.

Laurel's been confused by their relationship, confused about why he still wants to be with her, why he seems willing to accept a baby that isn't his as his own, and, ultimately, why he's been able to accept that friendship may be all she'll be able to give him. But she _has_ given him friendship. She's surprised him by asking him to go baby shopping with her, come to her appointments, take the Lamaze classes, put the crib together, and even join him for dinner with his parents' every Sunday.

But everywhere they go, it's "this is my _friend_ , Frank." He hates the sound of that. Friend. He's more, and they both know it. She's not ready for it. She has made it abundantly clear that she's not ready to move forward with him. And she may _never_ be ready. It's that thought that kills him over and over. Every time that thought worms its way into his brain his heart dies a little. That he may never again kiss her or hold her or get the chance to grow old with her dims what little light is left inside him more and more every day.

But then, then, he thinks about how he could have nothing. She could decide that she never wants to see him again, talk to him again, laugh with him again. And that. That thought threatens to leave him in the dark for good, unable to ever find his way back.

So, he _is_ her friend Frank. And it's a title he wears proudly, a title he does everything he can to deserve.

"Frank!" she calls out, her hand reaching for him the moment he steps into the room. Her face is contorted, pain etched into every feature. He rushes towards her and takes her hand in his, letting her squeeze tightly as she struggles through a contraction.

He looks around, breathing out forcefully as he grounds himself, lets the panic recede. This is all really happening.

"Where are the doctors and nurses?" he asks, his throat tight as he hides any discomfort her grip is causing. He doesn't get to complain, knows that his hand pales in comparison to what she's going through. "I thought there'd be a lot more happening," he notes. He wants to get her talking, do what he can to distract her from the pain in some small way. It's not much but it's worth a try.

"I'm not close enough yet," she gets out through gritted teeth before everything about her relaxes. Her hand goes slack against his but she doesn't let go completely. Neither does he. "They've been in and out checking on progress but... fuck, it hurts," she breathes out that last part softly, and he leans into her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I know it does, sweetheart," he murmurs. He pulls back to look her in the eye. "You can do this, though; I know you can," he encourages.

"You're right," she agrees but he has to stop from laughing at how unconvinced she sounds. He'll believe it enough for the both of them.

"Did you decide against the epidural?" he asks, trying to pull off a casual tone.

It's been a point of contention. Frank thinks it's a no-brainer. Why be in more pain than you have to be? Laurel has concerns that it will mess with the baby, hurt her somehow. Doctors wouldn't still be doing it though if that were the case, right?

She gives him a look but ultimately shakes her head, much to his surprise. "No, I got it. The pain was too much. And I thought about everything you said... It still hurts, though—Oh fuck, not again."

Her face scrunches up, her grip tightens, and he knows it must be another contraction. He rubs his hand up and down her back, whispers comforting words until she's made it through. It's silent for several moments as Laurel relaxes back against the pillows, taking a couple of deep breaths.

He clears his throat so that his voice is stronger when he speaks next. "Thank you for calling me, letting me be here."

She looks surprised at that. "You're my birthing partner," she says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You've been to all the classes. Of course, I'd want you here now."

"I know," he says softly, "but I meant before. Thank you for wanting me at those classes, for wanting me here, for letting me be in your life."

She looks teary eyed and so he leans forward and kisses her on the temple. They've been more touchy-feely than he's pretty sure either of them has ever been with their other friends. He has certainly never been like this, not even with Bonnie. With each other, though, it comes naturally.

"I'm scared," she tells him, her voice small.

He squeezes her hand, runs his other through her sweaty hair before resting it on her cheek and gives her a look that lets her know that he means business. "It's gonna be okay, Laurel," he tells her, voice filled with a certainty he's only realized. " _She's_ gonna be okay and healthy and perfect, and you're gonna be an amazing mom. It's just happening a little earlier than expected but I guess she couldn't wait to make her big debut."

"Oh, she's not early at all." The nurse walks in at some point during his pep-talk. He doesn't notice and so he jumps slightly at the woman's voice, watching as she speaks while going about checking different stats. "Right on time to be exact. You're lucky," she looks up at Laurel then, "Sometimes, pregnancy can go beyond the 40 weeks, especially with your first. Everything is looking good, though. The doctor will be in soon to check on your progress."

Frank's confused. _Right on time to be exact_. Those words play over and over in his head. How? How could she possibly be right on time? He knows when things with her and Wes began. She's early. At least a month and a half early.

The nurse leaves, and he looks over at Laurel, who is biting her lip nervously. He watches as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to stem the tears.

"Laurel?" he asks softly.

"I was going to tell you tonight. I promise I was. I knew I couldn't keep this beyond tonight. I've just been scared," she says, eyes still closed and unable to look at him. "I've been so scared."

"Laurel," he pleads, more insistent this time, begging her the way she had begged him.

She opens them then, the blue eyes he loves so much watery and broken. He brings her hand to his lips and kisses it softly. "You can tell me. I won't be upset, whatever it is," he promises.

"She's not Wes's baby," she tells him, softly. The words come out quickly as if she's ripping off a Band-Aid. "She's yours."

He doesn't say anything. He _can't._ His brain feels like a skipping record, unable to move past these words and onto the next. Laurel must misunderstand his silence, taking it for anger, and rushes on to explain.

"From Mexico last summer. It must have happened just before you disappeared in August. I didn't know how to tell you because we weren't anything really. And I was so upset about Wes, and then I found out about this, and I didn't know how or even want to explain it to everybody. And the doctors told me that night that the likelihood of losing this baby was almost guaranteed, and I couldn't put you through that…"

He gives her a quizzical look, not understanding why she felt it was better to keep it to herself. She continues softly, squeezing his hand.

"Bonnie told me. She told me how you wanted to kill yourself, almost did." She's crying now but doesn't show any signs of wanting to stop talking so he lets her talk, squeezes her hand back so that she knows he's there.

"She didn't know it was yours," she assures, "But Bonnie warned me, said that I shouldn't start anything with you again, that I should stay away because losing me again would be too much for you but I couldn't stay away because this is your baby, and I love you and so I just…," she shrugs, "I lied, because I didn't want you to know this was your child and then to lose it and have you blame yourself or hurt yourself because of it. And I didn't really know…" She takes a breath, and when she speaks again, her voice is steadier. There's a weight to her words, an importance that he doesn't miss. "I didn't really know if you and I could make anything work, even a friendship. I didn't know that what we'd have would be this special. I didn't know that I could trust in you."

"So you left it up to me," he says softly, everything making sense to him suddenly. It's a lot to take in but he focuses on the main parts right now because that is all he can do.

"Yeah, I didn't ask you to be a part of this because if you wanted to run far away from me, I'd let you," she admits. "But you didn't. You came to the hospital day after day after day. And you've been there for me so selflessly, and I realized how wrong I was but then I didn't know how to tell you. I told the others, that she's isn't Wes's but I didn't tell them that you-" she shakes her head, realizing she's heading down a tangent now that she's started. It's clear to Frank it's snowballing, everything she's held inside finally coming out. And he lets her say it how she needs to because that's his child inside her and that's really the only thing he can think about.

"And I didn't know how to tell you," she pleads for understanding, "I got scared. And so I just included you in everything; I tried to make sure that you weren't missing any of it. I wanted you there for all of it. Because I knew, eventually, today would come and I couldn't not tell you anymore. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied. It was just too much with everything else and—"

"Hey, hey, shh," he cuts her off but he's unable to go on before her hand is tightening around his, and she's letting out a pained groan.

"Hey, take a breath, Laurel. Just breathe through it, okay?" he tells her, leaning into her and wrapping and arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against his chest.

"It's all okay. I'm here," he says, his voice thick. "Everything is okay. We're okay," he promises her, feeling the truth behind those words.

He could be mad, could choose to be angry that she's kept this from him but she hasn't, not really. She's right. She's made sure he was there for all of it, even the things he would never have expected to be part of. Like that one night she called him over at three a.m. on a Friday – when her hormones were going especially crazy – and they spent the rest of the night, and much of the weekend, fucking.

She made sure he was a part of everything. It was almost like one big test for him. But he doesn't blame her for testing him. He doesn't blame her for believing he might run. If it were any other girl, he might do just that. He needed to re-earn her trust, without her feeling like this was all only some obligation for him. And he did it. Something inside him connected and through Laurel and this child, he became a better man. He's always going to be a better man for them from here on out. He knows that's true.

"I love you," he tells her for the first time since this all began, not able to hold it back any longer. "It's okay if you're not there but know that I love you… And thank you. Thank you for letting me be here for all of it, for you and our daughter."

 _Our_ daughter. It comes out so naturally, maybe because even when he thought it was Wes's daughter, he knew that he would be there for her, for her entire life. Laurel's little girl would always be his little girl, even if not biological.

She relaxes against him as the contraction subsides.

"I love you too," she tells him resolutely. "I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. I never want to do anything without you again."

The words overwhelm him, and all he can do is lean down to kiss her. Her hand comes up to his cheek, threads through his hair to keep him close. But he's not going anywhere. He deepens the kiss, feeling the love, the promise, flowing through them. She's his best friend. She's the love of his life. And somehow, he's made it back to her. He's earned her love, her trust. It's the deepest, truest connection he's ever felt.

The doctor comes in just as they are parting, another contraction hitting Laurel then, too. The doctor goes through his checkup, and Frank vaguely hears his instruction to the nurse but he's too focused on Laurel, on doing whatever he can to provide her comfort during the agony she must be facing. The nurse walks out, presumably to get more bodies, to get everything ready.

"Looks like we're there, so let's get this show on the road, and it'll be over before you know it," the doctor confirms with an overly enthusiastic smile. He feels Laurel's grip on his hand tighten, and he has to keep himself from smirking, knowing that Laurel is holding in some sarcastic comment. But the doctor speaks again, looking up at them from between Laurel's legs, "Are mommy and daddy ready to have a baby?"

Silence fills the room for just a moment, the words becoming a reality.

"Yeah," Frank speaks for the both of them, his heart overflowing at the thought. He looks to Laurel, his eyes shining with love. That same love is looking right back at him. He simply squeezes Laurel's hand and smiles. "We are."


End file.
